Choose
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: An alternate ending to 'The Great Outdoors' - What if their argument had gone differently? Would Imogen make the right decision? Slightly OOC, ONE-SHOT, femslash


**(A/N)** - This is a one-shot I wrote ages ago that I finished and never posted. It's a tad cheesy I guess, but I figured I should share it. Enjoy! :)

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**- Choose -**

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The two teachers have been getting on each other's nerves ever since Miss Cackle had assigned them to take this trip together. True, they never did like one another, for one was a witch and a very adept and formidable one at that, and the other was a human, headstrong and determined to not let her lack of magick keep her from being as good as the rest of them.

The two had begun to argue the moment Miss Cackle paired them up. Not because they would be forced to spend time together, but because the two had polar opposite ideas as to what the girls should get out of this trip. Had Miss Hardbroom not pulled the 'not a witch' card, Miss Cackle might have let her be in charge. But Constance had, so she wasn't.

Miss Drill walked away from that one with a smug look on her face. The trip was already getting to her head before they'd even left the castle walls.

It didn't last for very long, just as Miss Hardbroom had expected. Miss Drill inevitably burned her bridges when she told Miss Hardbroom that there was to be no magick, not even from the deputy headmistress herself. Miss Hardbroom agreed, knowing that the time would come when the sports mistress was in need of her magick. She was actually looking forward to it.

And then it happened.

A blizzard roared outside the cabin windows, and a frantic Drill paced the floor, knuckles to her lips in nervousness, her heart racing as she knew that the only way to solve this problem was to plead to the witch for her help.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Miss Hardbroom," she relented, completely at a loss, "_Be_ in charge."

The brunette looked over at the blonde for a moment, as if considering it, but she looked away, teacup in hand as she focused at a spot on the wall across from where she sat.

"Please," Imogen pleaded, sending a surge of delight through the older woman's bones, "be in charge again?" she repeated, this time sounding much less like an order and much more like begging.

She came into her line of sight, and the witch looked to her, and they never left her green eyes as she kneeled before her, asking incredulously in a panic, "If you want me to get down on my knees, Miss Hardbroom, I _will_ do!"

Constance watched her, eyes gleaming. Never before had she seen the non-witch so determined to get her to listen, and at the same time, being entirely at her mercy. Her chest rose and fell from beneath the clothes which weren't warm enough to withstand the sudden abrupt change in weather … a small shiver shook the smaller woman's frame, but still her eyes would not leave hers.

"Please," she breathed shakily, her eyes glassy, "I'm so sorry, Constance …"

The use of her first name made the witch's supposedly nonexistent heart skip a beat, and she placed her teacup on the table.

The non-witch, desperate, grasped her now empty hands in hers, both of theirs cold and clammy from the frigid weather.

"_Please_," Imogen begged under a whisper, the tears in her eyes unwillingly falling down her face. She released the witch to dry her eyes, feeling foolish, but the witch beat her to it, surprising the younger woman by gently brushing the tears away with her thumb.

"You don't appreciate me," Constance admitted solemnly, finally putting to words the reason why she had not so easily used her magick to fix the non-witch's mistakes.

"I do," Imogen insisted, her voice cracking.

Constance rolled her eyes, "You're only saying that because-"

"No," she cut her off, shaking her head, "I do appreciate you. More than you know."

"Prove it." Constance spat before she could stop herself.

She wasn't prepared for what happened next, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't like it.

The non-witch leaned forward on her knees, grabbing the witch's collar with both hands and pulling her towards her, nearly yanking her off of the chair as she pressed her pale pink lips to burgundy. Constance let out a soft cry against her mouth in surprise, but afterwards her ghostly white hands flew to the younger woman's fleece jacket, clinging onto the zipper as she yearned to feel her tanned skin beneath all those layers …

The sound of someone stepping onto the porch caught the witch's sharp ears, and she whipped one hand away, pointing to the door without looking and casting a spell to lock it. A wise move on her part, for he hadn't bothered to knock, only when he'd realized he'd been locked out.

"Hello?" Serge Dubois called, "Imogen?"

The blonde broke their kiss, looking fearfully to the door and back at the intoxicating witch in front of her.

"Choose," Constance whispered.

"_What_?" Imogen asked, confused.

"I know I haven't been kind to you since you've started at Cackle's," Constance admitted, "I can't promise anything except that I'll try … if you'd let me …"

"I don't understand …"

"Is anyone in there?" Serge called over the wind, knocking on the door but neither woman appeared to have heard him.

"I want you to choose, right now," Constance replied firmly, "Me or him?"

"You," Imogen replied instantly, without thinking.

The witch's heart melted, and she smiled one of her rare smiles, but it soon faded as she listened to the roaring of the strong winds outside the small building.

"You're just saying that because of-"

"I'm not," Imogen insisted with a sincere grin, her voice quieting as she said, "It's always been you."

The witch looked almost fearful as she stared back at the non-witch, feeling heat rise to her face and she looked away in embarrassment.

Clearing her throat, the witch stood, blasting the door open with unseen magick.

She'd forgotten that Serge was waiting on the other side of the door, and it hit him on the forehead with a sickening thud, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Dubois," Miss Hardbroom apologized quickly, though the tone of her voice didn't seem apologetic at all because she was shouting over the wind, "The door had frozen shut," she lied.

Imogen eyed her with a look that said 'well I know you don't like him but that was a bit uncalled for'. Constance pretended not to notice.

"Perhaps you should have a rest in the cabin, Miss Drill and I will look for the girls," she suggested, looking to the blonde, suspecting she might want to tend to the man's 'injuries' "Unless you'd rather –"

Imogen responded by lacing her fingers in Constance's as Serge disappeared into the cabin.

The witch smirked, her brown eyes squinting as she looked to the eternal whiteness that was swirling overhead. She headed down the snowy hill, leading Imogen with her as they further distanced themselves from the cabin.

Once she felt she was far enough away, Constance stopped in her tracks, shivering from the cold for she hadn't bothered to fetch her cloak.

Sensing that the witch was going to perform her magick, Imogen slipped her hand out from hers, or at least she tried to, but Constance gripped it comfortingly.

"Want to try a bit of magick?" Constance asked in a sort of half-shout over the storm.

"I-I can't –" Imogen replied, shaking her head.

"I know you can't," she replied, eyes sparkling, "But don't you want to feel what it's like?"

Imogen glanced uncertainly at her, and looked up to the sky,

"I don't know, Cons-"

"Just trust me," she said close to her, "And don't let go,"

Imogen's grip tightened as the witch raised both her hands, her spell-casting fingers stretched towards the sky on both hands, but still she managed to not let go of the non-witch's hand. She felt her magick course throughout her as she wordlessly mouthed the incantation to calm the storm. She felt her companion jump in surprise at the feeling, as if she'd been shocked, and, still casting the spell, she looked sideways at her to see the blonde smile, catching her breath as she experienced the magick. It hummed through their veins and warmed them up whilst giving them the same sensation as goosebumps.

The sky soon returned to normal, and Constance released Imogen, who was still smiling.

"That .. that was …" she said, completely at a loss for words.

"You," Constance replied simply.

Imogen looked confused, "What?"

"Part of my magick came from you, from our …" Constance blushed, "… encounter, before …"

"But how?" Imogen asked, "I don't-"

"Figure it out," Constance replied flatly, rolling her eyes.

Imogen stared up at the witch, brows furrowed as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this … she soon realized, and her features relaxed. She reached for the witch, but Constance backed off, clearing her throat as she nodded to someone in the distance.

Imogen looked around to see Serge emerge from the cabin, looking completely dumbstruck.

"No one can know," Constance reminded, "about … _us_. Understand?"

Imogen nodded, looking back to the witch, "Just do me one favor?"

Now it was Constance's turn to look confused.

"Don't forget me once we're back at the academy," she said softly with a grim smile as she turned to trudge up the snowy hill that was quickly melting under her feet.

Constance walked alongside her, "Of course I won't," she replied in her usual irritated voice, and the sports mistress suppressed a grin.

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**(A/N)** - short and sweet? :D reviews please even though this is a one shot I'd really appreciate it - I'm working on the other fics so have faith!


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